Lord of the Desert
by Saturnine Spiders
Summary: He's lost most of his team, his leg is broken, and he's stuck inside an old, decrepit relic castle. Braeden knows he's going to die, but that's not going to stop him from seeing what the legend's had called the rage of the sun, Volcarona.


**North of Castelia City, Near Route 4, Desert Resort **

In a sun-scorched land as vast as a tawny ocean, the westering sun ran like a flame over the jagged ridges of a rock and the towering dunes. In the red sky, a steel hawk-like Pokemon hovered on graceful wings and then plunged down, the aviary settling on a rock as its sharp eyes fixed upon a figure that stirred feebly in the sand. Its fingernails were digging into the grains as if seeking some kind of security, something to cling to, but as the boy's eyelids fluttered open and his blurred eyes focused upon the motionless miles of sand all around him, the effort was no more than useless.

The vermilion sunset blinded his eyes, and a groan escaped his dry lips as his movements made him aware of his seared skin. His face, neck and arms were covered in crimson welts, and his throat was parched, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. He cried out, hoarse whines leaving his lips as he twisted his neck, a dull pain spreading across his skull. He sunk into the boundless lake, his head upon his arm, watching the dark silhouettes of clouds pass over him.

The swarming of mercury-coloured Pidoves had caused him to bolt. They had invaded the main of flaxen sand like a dark cloud, descending upon him before he could take firm control of his body. One of the golden-eyed horrors had latched onto the back of his shirt, its sharp talons digging into his dark flesh, and his panic had transmitted to pained cries.

It had been mid-morning when the flock of Pidoves had struck the torrid desert, and now the sun was setting, and Braeden realized that he had lain there in the flaxen sand for the best part of the day, leaving him alone with a sprained ankle. The broken corpse of a Pidove laid by his feet, leaving him to stare into empty eyes, ichor caked across its mercury feathers.

He sat up on his knees and tried to walk, but the pain had been too much to bear. He bound his ankle with cloth from his floral-patterned shirt but still; he could only hobble along, scorching pain webbing across the base of his heel until he stepped upon a vermilion stone and fallen flat upon his face.

Memories of the morning slid through his mind, the invigorating walk into the resort and the remains of the relic stone that rose and fell in the golden waves; those pink petals and yellow-fingered arms in their pretty green flesh and daffodil eyes, their sweet grinning faces alert and dangerous. Don't mind the fact that they were basically cacti; Pokemon weren't to be underestimated.

In his adolescence, Braeden had loved the tales of sweltering sands and relic castles that held legends of the Sun Pokemon, known to him as the rage of the sun. Since then, he had been unable to resist the compulsion to visit the resort, explore the dark depths of the aged castle, and feel the burning scales of Volcarona. It was said to be the glaring light of a beacon when the sky is dark with volcanic ash, and some legends claim that it hatched from a flaming cocoon to save people and Pokemon from the benumbed ether of the north, its fiery dance searing away the bitter winds.

Oh, what an _idiot_ he had been to lose his head over a damned Pidove down his shirt, but still, his skin quivered at the feeling of its talons prodding at his flesh. There in the sand, he had beat at himself until he could no longer feel its mercury feathers, but in his panic, he'd lost his footing and tumbled down the golden waves, crushing the Pokemon beneath his weight. Hours had passed while he laid half-baked by the sweltering sun, each movement bringing him out of perspiration; his throat parched with thirst. He had drifted into a semi-conscious sleep; until the cooling of the sun had brought him back to reality.

Bracing himself against the pain that hammered at his temples, he forced himself to sit up, gasping as the desert sand seemed to spin around him. He gave a cry, which was echoed by the Skarmory that crouched on a nearby rock, gazing down on him with sharp and curious eyes set above an iron beak. The aviary fanned out its sharp wings, a layer of vermilion feathers under the sheath that covered its pinions, and Braeden feared that it was getting ready to swoop down on him.

With a pounding heart, and feeling as if at any moment he would keel over in a faint, Braeden watched as the metal bird rose into the air. It swooped in a graceful arc above his figure, screeching as it attempted to grab at his dreads. Quickly, he felt himself pull at a Pokeball on his belt, angry tears springing to his eyes as a blinding light emitted from the ball in his hand.

A small, quadruped Pokemon the colour of melted caramel materialized from the white light with a nasty snarl, her cream-coloured collar and bushy tail standing on end. She leapt into the air, snapping her jaw at the silver-grey Pokemon, her long pointed ears flat against her head. Braeden wheezed, hacking blood into the sand as he tried to clear his throat. "C'mon Eevee," he yelled, his voice hoarse. "Shadow Ball!"

_"Ee-Eevee!"_ Dark, mauve shadows formed a sphere at Eevee's agape mouth, purple static radiating from the black sphere as Eevee launched it at the metal bird. Skarmory wailed as the shadow ball discharged across its wings, roughing up its vermilion feathers.

It swooped down again, twisting mid-air as its silver wings glowed a bright white, its sharp yellow eyes narrowed as it descended upon the Evolution Pokemon. Braeden braced himself, covering his head. "Fuck! Get out of there!" he ordered, watching with worried eyes as Eevee narrowly avoided the attack. "Good girl..."

Skarmory glided around them, screeching as brilliant white stars materialized around it, twinkling beneath the last flaming colours of the sunset. The stars fired towards Eevee, pelting her tan fur in an ivory light, and Braeden knew there was no use of dodging it, the attack never missed. Eevee cried out in pain, tumbling into the desert sand, where she landed next to the vermilion stone. She stared at the stone with curious eyes, and before Braeden could even hint at what it was, Eevee pressed her head against the stone.

Her body morphed in a blinding light and as the light faded; a fire was cascading across her orange pelt, her yellow tail whipping across the golden sand. She tossed her head back, the blaze enveloping her figure, but as she called out her name, the inferno erupted into a spitting fire, encompassing Skarmory into its gaping mouth. The aviary screeched in agony, blindly clawing at the flames that scorched its metal skin. Braeden shook his head, harshly laughing in spite of himself. "Smart, but that's probably because I didn't think of it!" he said, grinning as Flareon barked happily at him. "Now Ember while it's distracted!"

Flareon snarled at the aviary, spitting shots of fire into the cool ether, the fire crackling as it seared the armour Pokemon. Skarmory cried out, a weak whine leaving its beak as it began to plummet to the ground, its eyes shut in a dead faint. Sand kicked up in a wave of gold, blinding Braeden momentarily, and he rubbed at his sore eyes. Flareon was licking at the Skarmory's wounds, pressing her nose against its silver skin, her tail wagging behind her. _"Flar-Fla!"_ she cooed, turning her head to look at Braeden.

Braeden grinned, struggling to get to his feet, his ankle quivering in pain. He hobbled towards her, kicking up a cloud of sand behind him as he stumbled down the steep hill. She leapt into his arms, licking at his cheek with an excited cry. Braeden chuckled, running his hand through her marigold fur. "I know this isn't what you wanted to evolve into," he said, pushing her ears back. "But, if you didn't, I'm sure you realized you'd end up as its late night snack."

She nodded, nestling into the crook of his neck, a hollow growl emitting from her stomach. Braeden smirked, a knowing look in his eyes as he placed her back onto the flaxen sea. She sniffed the sand, crouching, her tail high in the air. The lamented Pidove caught her attention, and she prodded at the mercury-coloured Pokemon, a ravenous gleam in her beady eyes as she roasted it with her fiery breath. She sank her teeth into the feathered Pokemon, tasting the warm flesh of the bird, a coo leaving her throat as fresh blood lolled across her tongue. She swallowed the Pidove whole, licking her nose as a drowsy yawn escaped her lips. "_Flar-Leon-Flar!"_ she called, tiredly burrowing into the sand, a sleepy smile etched onto her face.

Braeden kneeled next to her, threading his fingers through the tawny tuff above her head, his other hand reaching for her Pokeball. "Thanks," he said as a red light encompassed her sluggish figure. "Don't let the Joltiks bite."

The crescent moon was rising high above his head, its ebony glow casting a silhouette of his figure into the flaxen sand. Braeden pulled off his knapsack, grabbing the lukewarm freshwater from its sheath, a thin frown pulling at his lips. He greedily guzzled down the water, drops rolling across his chin and onto the cool sand. The sand beneath started to simmer, like eggs on a pan, before it began sinking into the earth; spinning like a carousel, pulling the fainted Skarmory into its gaping jaw. Braeden fought for his breath, digging his fingers into the sand as he keeled over, the freshwater left to be swallowed by the sand. His grip was loosening, and he screamed as his head was drowned by the flaxen sea.

He gasped as a sharp shock stabbed through his jeans and into his leg, the pain crawling through his veins, blood seeping into the sand below him. His head was spinning, bile rising to his throat, and he collapsed into himself, crying out as the ache blossomed across his skin, rattling his bones. He struggled to breathe, hacking up the water he had just drunk, his brown eyes throbbing as he tried to blink away the strands of grain stabbing at his cornea. He floundered, his legs twitching beneath him as he mindlessly reached for his belt, and his eyes widened as his fingers felt the cold metal of a buckle.

Braeden steeled himself from screeching like a group of girls at a _Razzberries_ concert, his fingers blindly tearing open his bag, searching for a sense of security, a line of defence. He pulled out a Pokeball, his throat croaking as he rasped out a name. A deer-like Pokemon with tall antlers covered in vermeil leaves emerged from the ivory light, towering over Braeden's keeled figure.

The male Sawsbuck poked at his ribs, grounding his hooves into the sand, a gruff whine escaping his throat. Braeden wrapped his hands around Sawsbuck's antlers, hauling himself onto his feet with trembling fingers. He stumbled, staggering into Sawsbuck, choking back a pained groan as his body crashed into the deer. Sawsbuck glared at him, kicking him onto his back, an irritated look in his coal eyes.

Sawsbuck surveyed the chiseled limestone walls alight by a burning tallow, watching as the flames licked the stone, painting its details a searing black. He could hear the hollow cries of the room as it echoed across barren walls, telling a tale he couldn't understand. Sawsbuck stalked across the pillars of golden sand, his head lowered, watching as the sand split between the spaces of his hooves, webbing across his pelt.

Braeden was pulling at his ears, whispering mangled words, his head thrown back as his pained groans carried through the vapid room. "I think—" he coughed, breathing heavily. "I think my leg is broken, and the others—"

Braeden squinted, his eyes widening as the volume of the room sunk in. "Sawsbuck." He was vibrating, his breathy laughs resonating in the Pokemon's ears. His umber eyes wandered across the relic walls, soaking in the cryptic writing and disfigured silhouettes of desert Pokemon. The incised outline of a Sandile was bowing before the sun, the carving of a flightless moth seared into the fulmination. Braeden grinned despite the pain in his jaw. "I _knew _I wasn't crazy..."

"The flying rat isn't here, though," he mused, suddenly, resting his head against Sawbuck's neck, his heart hammering hard against his sternum. Sawsbuck weaved through the thick sand, studying the ground for any sign of red or white, but the only colour within the tawny strands was the black of his hooves and beige of his legs. "The others are probably with it, right?"

Sawsbuck gestured towards a narrow stairwell only lit by the leaping flames of a single torch, remnants of penumbras encasing the dark depths in a shield of ebony. Braeden's eye twitched like a wicked gem; his hands, lean and leathered like his belt, reaching out as if to take the Pokemon by the throat. He glared at Sawsbuck averted back and would have liked to plunge a knife between his shoulder blades had the deer-like Pokemon not been his. "Of course," he sighed as Sawsbuck began to tread down the dingy steps. "I just had to be left with _you,_ didn't I?"

Sawsbuck huffed, pressing the right side of his body against the unforgiving stone, and Braeden seethed as the limestone pushed against the exposed skin of his broken leg. "Okay, shit!" he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I get it! It's not exactly my fault you kinda suck, you know..."

Braeden pressed a palm to his pounding temples, sighing in relief as the pain slowly resided, his lips twitching as if to suppress a disgruntled frown. Sawsbuck slowly descended into the darkness that kissed up their skin, suffocating them like a damp, musty, thick blanket that clung to every inch of their brown flesh. A low, portentous screech echoed from below, and Braeden frantically pulled at the flashlight secured on his hip, illuminating the vacant stairs in a beam of light as Sawsbuck suddenly bucked forward, racing towards the sound.

His hands clutched the stag's tall antlers as Sawsbuck panted, tailing the cry into a large room with spiralling pillars reaching to the heavens; the glint of silver plunging deep into the inky abyss of a large crater in the centre of the room. Braeden waved the flashlight about the opening, cutting through myriads of the dark empyrean, but only the relatively golden limestone floor below was visible.

Sawsbuck circled the gloomy basin, his neck bowed, sniffing the flaxen sand. Braeden regarded him with an eye roll; his lips tightened as he searched through his knapsack when suddenly a mass of lime green energy began to accumulate at the base of Sawsbuck's jaw, forming a small orb, a darker shade of green encompassing it. _"Sa-Saws-Buck!"_

The growing sphere launched towards the wall, and Braeden ducked into Sawsbuck as the orb shattered against the limestone, exploding the wall and nearby flooring as a cloud of sand and smoke surrounded them, smothering their lungs in grains of gold. Braeden coughed into Sawsbuck's pelt as the blanket of smoke cleared, blinking away the strands of dust in his eyes as he aimed his flashlight towards the collapsing walls. The dull red of a Pokeball was indented into the stone flooring, covered in dust, and Braeden slouched over, the tension in his shoulders relieving.

Sawsbuck kneeled, and Braeden reached for it, wrapping his fingers around the Pokeball in a firm grip. He shook the unease out of his head and opened it, smiling widely as the bright light materialized into a small, teal Pokemon with big, round eyes and large pointy ears. The Pokemon jumped about, calling out her name in excited yells, before she caught sight of Braeden and Sawsbuck, grinning as she began to race towards them. Sawsbuck moved out of the way before she could tackle them, snarling at the jolly Pokemon with narrowed eyes.

_"Sawsbuck-Saws!"_ he snapped, stomping his hooves onto the floor. The teal Pokemon pulled a Rawst berry out from her long fur, snickering as she sunk her teeth into the berry, spraying the vibrant juice all over her cream pelt. Braeden could only sigh, rubbing his temples in annoyance. "Munchlax, stop being a fatass, please. Mind telling me how your Pokeball ended up on the _inside_ of the floor?"

Munchlax shrugged, already beginning to meander across the large room in search of food. _"Lax-Munch-La!_" she said, waving gaily as she downed the littered cans and empty chip bags scattered across the large room.

Braeden smiled mockingly. "Don't choke."

Munchlax wandered over to the opening in the floor, peering deep into the chasm with a thoughtful look before she swung her feet over the edge and jumped down, landing on her head. "Munchlax!" Braeden called out, reigning Sawsbuck over to the crater, his flashlight lighting up her dazed figure. "Are you okay?"

She scratched her head, yawning._ "Lax-Lax-Munchlax!_" she said drowsily, falling over onto her stomach. She curled up and placed her thumb in her mouth, rocking herself back and forth.

Braeden groaned, clicking his flashlight off and on, hoping it would wake her up, but she turned her back to him. "You would sleep in a situation like this, typical. "

Braeden rested his head against Sawsbuck, exhausted. His right leg laid against Sawsbuck's side in fragmented pieces, the cloth still wrapped around his ankle was coated in dried blood, and he regarded it with a contemplative eye.

He had long been fascinated by the tales of the relic castle, but it was only now that he understood its perils. Castelia City was large, with towering skyscrapers reaching for the clouds and flooded sewage ways crawling with Pokemon, but it was confined. Braeden toiled at the same oil factory as the rest of Castelia; his skin forever drenched by the miasma of petroleum, the mechanical routine forever ingrained in his every cell.

Braeden hated it, the way he wasted his days slaving from five to nine for a lick of money, for a scrap of silver that could pay for the bread that sits on the counter of his penurious apartment. It was stupid, and he wanted what everyone else wanted, adventure, a sense of identity; he wanted to be like the kids who walk through Castelia with blood coursing through their every vein, but he was intoxicated by the oil that muddled his every thought.

He wanted to see myriads of flaxen sand and wisps of the vermilion sun as it illuminated the still grain, explore the foreboding topiary of the pinewood trees in Pinwheel Forest and molten magma deep within the caverns of Reversal Mountain, and he wanted to capture it all behind the lens of his camera.

A few years ago, the resident gym leader and artist, Burgh, had invited the bug-type gym leaders of all regions for a simple gathering. It was rather bittersweet, really. Braeden would watch as their Pokemon roamed the dark streetlights with nimble wings, the likes of a light-haired woman following them with her fingers always ready to take the perfect shot.

Her green eyes were as bright as her Pokemon's mulberry ombre wings and as curious as a Meowth in the hollow of night, and Braeden had been mesmerized by her. But it wasn't Viola's beauty that captivated him; it was the flash of the camera and thrill in her forest-green eyes that intrigued him.

Braeden knew that the work of a gym leader was strenuous, but she seemed to push away the sleep that built up in her. She was living, he had realized, and he was simply surviving just as everyone else in Castelia was. Her hair had been the colour of the whipped cream served atop his coffee when he had finally looked at her from an arm's distance inside Café Sonata, and when he had gathered the strength to introduce himself, her eyes were green — the kind of green that budded on the prisoners of winter, bringing life back to their branches.

When she opened her mouth, it was with a deep Kalosian accent, and the hand she held out to shake was caked with blotches from her Casteliacone's dark chocolate syrup, her expression of utmost confidence. He could see the dull silver of her engagement ring, and he had congratulated her, scratching his cheek as a sheepish blush spread across the nape of his neck.

A coral-winged Pokemon with a head the shape of teardrop had been balanced delicately on her shoulder, its irises the colour of the syrup staining Viola's hand. She had pulled out a folder, then, her eyes sparkling in the dull light of the Café like a fresh sheen of morning dew as she flipped through the myriads of photos, each one marked with a date and a signature.

She handed one to Braeden, and he had started at it with dawdling conviction in his darkening eyes. There, in the photo, was him. His dark flesh glared in contrast to the white sky behind him, his hands pressed against a girder as it pushed into his stomach, knocking his breath away. Violent bulges resembling pulsing, red veins were patterned into the muscular arms holding the steel frame in place, the Pokemon's skin the colour of a sad sky as it bared a nasty grin towards Braeden.

It was one of the many Pokemon that worked at the factory, one that was known to have a malicious streak, and he had been the unlucky victim that day as it had set its eyes on him before he could pull the exhaustion that had perspired down his exposed collarbone off his face.

The photo wasn't lovely, that's for sure, but it did intrigue him. Braeden forced himself to avoid looking into the eyes of his dreary reflection at work, but as he stared into his unblinking eyes within the photograph, he stared into the eyes of a tired drudge. But, there was something else in those jaded irises that piqued a sense of curiosity within him, and iota of phlegm, _something._

Viola asked him to sign the picture, and he had signed it with shaky palms, barely acknowledging the apology she sent his way; _an invasion of privacy,_ she said. Braeden had thanked her before slipping out of the enclosing walls of the Café, his gait a stumbling daze as he made his way to his apartment. He had known, then, in the warmth of his sheets, what he wanted, and he was willing to do whatever it took to achieve it. Braeden knew it was selfish, but for once in his monotonous life, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He had sought out Professor Juniper in Nuvema Town as soon as Viola had left, willing himself to disregard the Butterfrees in his stomach as he introduced himself and his need for a starter. She had been eager to gift him one, her lab coat billowing behind her as she pulled him deep into her laboratory, blabbering nonsense. She was patient, and he had stared at Pokemon on the floor for a long while, watching as the Snivy turned its nose to him, and the Tepig hide its face.

The Oshawott, on the other hand, had gazed at him with dull eyes, holding its shell close to its chest as it yawned. Braeden had smiled as it blinked the sleep from its eyes. It had reminded him of himself, lethargic and dull; bored of the same off-and-on again routine. But as Viola had shown, his exhaustion was checked by his anxiety, and he appeared rather like a slave than an avid worker in need of money.

Ohsawott had been his first Pokemon, his ticket into a life he so selfishly wanted, the beginning of something_ new,_ and Braeden had drunk from the poisoned glass willingly. However, the bipedal otter-like Pokemon was a cynical bastard, manipulating Braeden into its hands with its sombre facade, and it was then he learned Pokemon weren't cookie-cutter creatures, they were just as human as he was. Pokemon could be deceptive, Pokemon could lie, and Pokemon could _kill._ Braeden had known the world was dangerous, but inside the walls of Castelia, he was safe from the hands of those who wished to walk the path of darkness.

And the lands that swallowed its victims whole.

But as he sits on Sawsbuck back, his right leg in fragments, he wished he had listened to the world instead of doing as he pleased. He was foolish, he knew that, but he smiled despite the pain in his heart. Perhaps, this was his last adventure. He'd bleed out, and he would be left to wilt into the golden grains. But, he was..._happy,_ for lack of a better word. It was a funny thing, death. Braeden knew of those who desired to be taken by their own bloodied hands, and those who fear the intangible — the idea of what _is_ and what _was._

But, Braeden did not wish for death, and he did not fear it, either. He was at a medium with it; he had accepted it, but as the tick and tock of death grew closer (or perhaps it was a thing of his imagination), he _understood._ Death was scary, yes, but death wasn't intangible, it was just there. It was the poison in your tea, it was the man in the corner store, and it was the Ursaring who shook with hunger. Braeden accepted death as he accepted those who lost all will to do the same.

Braeden watched Munchlax sleep with envious eyes; rest evading him as the pain in his temples ebbed, washing over him in waves. He scanned the darkening abyss for a way down; a way that wouldn't disturb his leg or the pounding of drums in his head. Braeden felt nauseous as he stared into the void only lit by the flashlight gripped tightly in his hands, narrowing his eyes at the flaxen sand; it was _moving._ Braeden blinked, the sand stopped, he blinked again, and the sand was rising and falling as if it were breathing.

Perhaps he _was_ crazy.

However, the thick edge of a branch appeared from atop the sand, and Braeden watched as the branch continued to dig through the flaxen grains, and before long, he was staring into the gaping mouth of a large mound of sand, silver pebbles dotted across its body. The Pokemon swayed as it slowly moved across the sand towards Munchlax, and Braeden's jaw clenched, searching through his bag for his Pokédex. _"Sand-San!"_

The device was hanging from a single blue wire, shards of glass catching his thumb as he ran it down the shattered screen. He tossed it onto his lap, scowling as he turned his attention back to the animated sand. He assumed it was a ground-type, its body _was_ made up of sand, but Braeden couldn't be certain if it had a dual-typing.

Munchlax was asleep, oblivious to the looming figure, and Braeden's mind blurred as he found himself throwing his broken Pokédex at the slumbering Pokemon. It scratched her teal pelt, and she whined, rolling onto her back as she struggled to pull herself up. _"Munch-Munchlax!_" she pouted, rubbing her eyes with a sleepy yawn.

"You'll thank me later!" Braeden said, his voice shaking. "Just — look behind you, you idiot!"

The mound of golden sand was towering over the baby Pokemon, blank eyes peering down at her, and before she or Braeden could do anything, the Pokemon swallowed her into its gaping jaws, melting back into the flaxen sand. _"Gast."_ Braeden was still as he stared down into the blank abyss, the flashlight long forgotten as it laid blinking on the floor.

Sawsbuck huffed, turning his head to look at Braeden as if he blamed him. Braeden blinked, snarling at the deer-like Pokemon, a strange venom lacing his tongue. "Munchlax," he whispered. "Come on..."

He was hyperventilating; the walls closing in on him. "Maybe, and I know this will sound crazy, but instead of letting it eat you, _you_ eat _it!"_

"Munchlax, dude, come on. I didn't give you permission to die!" When Braeden had met Munchlax; a plastic six-pack talisman was caught around her neck, cutting into her thick flesh. She refused to have it removed, parading around the thing like a medallion, and it was ridiculous.

No, _she_ was ridiculous.

She didn't see that she was dying.

She didn't see that her siblings were as thick as a house compared to her door frame stature, and she didn't see that it wasn't normal to hiccup blood every time she wheezed or coughed.

It couldn't have been more stupid.

But, Braeden, he didn't know _what_ to do. He tried to cut the talisman with pliers as she slept but ended up nicking the flesh around the base of her throat. He tried shaking her out of it, but all that did was make her dizzy and a tad salty for the rest of the month. Arceus, he tried begging her, and a man who dared to beg on his knees for _anything_ was not a man.

Unless it was his future wife, then he supposed he could make an exception.

But, his pride be damned, Munchlax needed his help. She was much too sickly to move; too sickly to do anything else but wait for death. She was virtually a doll, his doll, and he wasn't ready to buy another one.

He never did apologize, though, when he forced her between his knees as she cried fake tears and cut through her pelt till she was a fossil to her former self. And he never did apologize for drawing blood and stripping her of her talisman. He wasn't about to either.

He saved her life, whether she knew that or not didn't matter.

And now, he supposed, she was dead.

Braeden brought the tip of his thumb to his mouth and gnawed on it slowly. "Eaten alive," he said, lazily running his tongue along the edge of his nail. "Can you even _be_ eaten alive by a pile of sand?"

_"Sawsbuck."_

Braeden drew back and spat the nail out from his mouth. He didn't see the blood, no, but he felt it, and he tasted it.

He could only hope her blood wasn't as sweet.


End file.
